


a mouthful of dirt

by hellchoirs



Series: why storms are named after people [3]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24508168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellchoirs/pseuds/hellchoirs
Summary: The world span around Klaus' near-paralysed body, pivoting around him and the hands on him, everywhere on him.
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves/Original Male Character(s)
Series: why storms are named after people [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1760482
Comments: 20
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: rape/non-con. Warnings in the end notes.

Klaus’ feet tumbled over one another when they reached a set of stairs. He couldn’t remember walking to them. When his knees sagged, the man with an arm wrapped around him lifted him upright again. Klaus’ gaze slid up to his face, scrutinising him as confusion flooded him. He began to squirm again, wanting to get away as the horrible feeling sat in his stomach like a boulder, thick and heavy and screaming at him, wrong, wrong, wrong, but his body was a clumsy, heavy thing, not cooperating with his mind which was equally as uncooperative. Time slipped through his fingers like sand, one moment he was in the club and the next he was on a dark street and the next he was leaning against a wall as the man in front of him unlocks an apartment door before coming back to his side, slipping an arm around his waist and urging him forwards.

His memories were out of reach, mind too far gone to try and organise hazy, drug-addled memories, even as he stared at the man in front of him and tried to see if he could remember him; tried to remember how he ended up here with him.

“Wha’s… happ’ning,” he slurred, trying to curl his fingers into the man’s shirt. They twitched over his shoulder, pushed down slightly, but didn’t do what he wanted.

The man turned to look at Klaus, pausing them on their way to a door, and he lifted his free hand to rest it on Klaus’ cheek gently. He offered a soft smile and said, “don’t worry, you’re okay.” He continued guiding Klaus forwards, through a doorway which led to a bedroom, and then he lowered Klaus down onto the bed. Klaus fell backwards, unable to even try to slow his descent, and blinked blearily up at the ceiling above him.

He felt a tug at his foot and one of his shoes was pulled off, set aside, and then the other one joined it. His body seemed to sink further and further into the mattress as if it might swallow him whole. Hands slid up his ankles, fingertips ghosting feather-light over his shins and the curve of his knees. The man at the foot of the bed rose up, just in his line of sight without having to move his head, towering over him. The light from the room outside slipped in through the doorway and hit his back, making him look like a single silhouette, a shadow; faceless and anonymous and inhuman. Klaus tried to squirm backwards, away from the person, but all that happened was he let out a noise, something high-pitched in the back of his throat, and his shoulders shook.

The man turned, reaching out one hand to close the door, drowning them in darkness.

Klaus didn’t like the dark.

He set his own shoes aside neatly, patiently, and then he came and got onto the bed on his knees, one either side of Klaus’ legs, to sit on his thighs. He was silent for several long minutes, or maybe only moments, Klaus couldn’t tell. He simply stared at Klaus; at his face, his stomach, his hands, his hips, his neck, his eyes. He took him in in a way that made Klaus feel like a specimen, being studied and analysed. He tried to move away but only succeeded in crossing one arm over his chest and twisting his upper body onto its side slightly.

A hand on his shoulder pushed him back with no trouble. Klaus made a small noise of protest and was once more on his back, staring up at the man. He thrust his hand out, managing to grab the hem of his shirt, twisting it up between his fingers. “Please,” he breathed, “ ‘wanna… go home.”

The man tipped his head to the side and slowly lifted a hand to rest over Klaus’, easily taking it away from his shirt.

“Sweetheart… you don’t have a home,” the man told him, interlocking their fingers and running his thumb over Klaus’ knuckles. Klaus’ back arched momentarily, a poor attempt at trying to shake the man off him, and then he fell back with a whine.

“Please,” he repeated. The man ducked low, hanging his head an inch from Klaus, and when Klaus looked away he brought his other hand up to his cheek, forcing him to look at him.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, looking Klaus up and down once more, running his thumb along his cheekbone. “Gorgeous.”

“Please,” repeated Klaus, not entirely sure what he was asking for anymore. The man brought his gaze back up to his eyes and pressed his lips together for a moment.

“I didn’t want to do this,” he told Klaus. “Not right away. Not like this. I planned it all out, and I was going to wait, but… I’ve already waited. I’ve waited for so long. And you sound so pretty, begging like that.”

Klaus’ breath hitched in his throat and the man ducked his head to press their lips together. Klaus couldn’t move his head anymore and the man continued to kiss his unresponsive lips, bringing both hands up to cradle his face and hold his head in place. He was gentle, but there was an underlying tone to this- to him. Something hidden beneath the surface, resting just out of sight. There was this gentleness to him but there was something else and Klaus wasn’t sure if the man even knew about it; if this gentleness was an act he purposefully put up to hold back from something rougher, unkind, or if he was simply gentle now but had something mean and cruel simmering in his veins, eager to get its chance to burst out. And Klaus couldn’t do anything.

He parted their lips to invade Klaus’ mouth with his tongue while his hands descended, skimming the exposed skin of his midriff, running up his sides and underneath his crop top, following the sharp ridges of his ribs that expanded steadily with each too-steady breath, because he found he could hardly even panic, body numb and disconnected to his mind to realise he didn’t like these hands on him, that he couldn’t move. Hands ran over his chest and settled there for a while before moving on; the man began tugging the shirt up his body, and then finally pulled away from his mouth, just enough to gently manoeuvre Klaus’ arms out of his shirt, setting them back on the bed as if he knew they would just drop if he let them go. He slid a hand down to rest between his shoulders, lifting him off the bed to un-trap his shirt, and then he pulled it over his head and set it aside and laid Klaus back down.

He kissed a trail down his jaw, tilting Klaus’ head to the side so he was stuck staring at a wall. Against his chest, he murmured, “beautiful. Always have been.”

There was hands on his arms, and then they were on his chest. They moved to stroke his neck, then down to his stomach. The man slid down his legs until he was standing again and slid his hands down Klaus’ hips. His fingers hooked his skirt and in a smooth movement, he took both the skirt and his underwear off, discarding them aside. He took his own shirt off, along with his pants, and then crawled back onto the bed. His hands run up his knees, up to rest on his thighs, and then hooked underneath them. He spread his legs so he could sit between them, then he leaned over him, leaning down to press their chests together, and began to kiss at his neck. Klaus’ legs hung over his thighs, dangled over the edge of the bed, and his toes hung over the floor.

“Please,” he whispered into the air. The man ran a hand through his hair, gentle, almost loving.

“I’ll be good to you, Klaus,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I…”

“Unlike the other men you let fuck you. They don’t care about you. I do.”

Klaus blinked, his eyes stinging. The hand not in his hair ran down his cheek, stretching down his chest, down his stomach, coming to stroke between his legs still spread out before him, and Klaus’ body shuddered at the touch.

“No,” he croaked, voice hoarse, head spinning.

“I’ll be good to you,” the man repeated, kissing his jaw. “I’ll make it feel good for you too, Klaus.”

Klaus’ chest ached with a sob.

“Please,” he whispered. The man pressed against him, everywhere, everywhere, everywhere.

“Say it again.”

The hand kept burning him, burning his skin, every inch of his body on fire like it had been out on the dance floor, and Ben wasn’t there, still. Klaus didn’t want to be on fire anymore. “Please.”

His body didn’t move for him, but it did for the other man, and Klaus ached with horror and disgust and hopelessness. “Again,” said the man, breathy.

“… please.” It was hard to make his tongue move, now. The man was gone for a moment, shucking his underwear aside, and he was back, now, closer, closer, closer, slamming their lips together.

“Again.”

There was the sound of something tearing, packaging. One hand stroked the inside of his thigh idly. He swallowed and it took tremendous effort. He felt a little sick.

“Please.”

He was moved, slightly. Hips twisted, legs moved. The man kissed the outside of his thigh, then his hip. A bottle cap popped like a gunshot. His eyelids fluttered and fell half-shut, heavy.

“ _Again_. Say it again.”

One hand came up to stroke his cheek, running along the wet patch underneath his eye. Klaus tried not to focus on the other hand. The world was sinking in and out of focus and he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. He let them fall closed, let his mind begin to sink away with everything this time, and uttered with the last of his strength, “ _please_.”


	2. Chapter 2

Klaus woke feeling horrible.

His head pounded and his stomach rolled and he must still be high, he thought, with how muddy his mind felt. He ran a hand through his hair and braced himself to get up. His eyes peeled open and he stared at the walls around him and after a few moments in which he simply stared, surprise hit him. He had expected to see brick walls of an alleyway, perhaps, or ruined walls of some crack den around him; not painted grey walls with a white trim; a soft bed beneath his body.

He tried to think back to last night, but his memories were a mess. He could remember Ben, and arguing with him, and getting high, and going out, but really– that was mostly a guess. He did all of that almost every day. He could remember, vaguely, spinning around a dancefloor, and he couldn’t remember anything else. Perhaps he overdid it on the drugs or alcohol, he thought bitterly. With how bad he felt he might have even overdosed. But he was in a bed, in someone’s house, so he assumed he must have shacked it up with someone– but, he realised, though he wasn’t wearing a shirt, he was still wearing his underwear and his skirt, and he was alone in the bed.

“Guy slept on the couch.”

Klaus startled slightly, the motion jarring his body and sending a new wave of nausea through him. He settled a hand on his upset stomach as he looked up at Ben and relief flooded him. “What?” He croaked, throat dry. Ben moved from his spot by a thin window.

“I came back during the night. Guy was asleep on the couch in the living room, you were alone.”

“That’s a first,” muttered Klaus, stroking his stomach idly. It felt… weird, to think he had been left alone all night. Almost wrong; hard to believe when it had never happened before, whether he had been conscious or not. 

Slowly, he shuffled to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over the edge and bracing himself to stand up. He spotted his shoes set aside near the door and made it his goal in mind to get them on and get out, but he was stuck battling the nausea in his stomach for several moments, sure he would just throw up or pass out, or maybe both, if he stood. As he did so, there was movement from outside and the door nudged open. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” said the man in the doorway, and Klaus frowned slightly at him, looking him up and down. He couldn’t place his voice or face in his memories. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said awkwardly, and the man smiled at him and walked inside.

“How are you feeling?” He asked. “You were pretty out of it when I found you.”

Klaus frowned again, looking down at his feet. “I, uh, don’t remember,” he said softly, and the man came to sit on the bed next to him, leaving a space between them.

“I wasn’t sure you would,” he uttered with a frown. “We were talking at that club for a while, but then you went off somewhere else. I was just about to leave and I found you in the bathroom. You looked out of it and some guy was trying to get you out- it seemed a bit odd, I won’t lie. So I said we were friends and took you back to mine and you passed out as soon as you sat down. Sorry about your shirt – it looked like a drink had been spilled over it, I put in the washing for you. I just let you sleep in here overnight and I took the couch. It’s been quite a while since you passed out.”

Klaus pursed his lips together, listening to what he said. It wouldn’t have been the first time someone had done that to him, but it would be the first time someone had intervened and not taken advantage of the situation themselves. The idea that someone gave a fuck about him enough to help him and make sure he was okay- it was an unfamiliar thing and it made his chest feel warm. 

“Oh,” he murmured, eyes flicking to Ben who simply shrugged and then nodded. “Well, uh, thanks, but I should probably go…”

The man quirked an eyebrow. “No offense, but I don’t think that’s the best idea,” he said. “It’s been raining all day- you’ve been asleep for almost fourteen hours. It’s late. The weather’s just supposed to be getting worse- storms, soon. Plus, your shirt still needs to dry. You can stay here as long as you want- come on, I’ll show you where the bathroom is and you can shower and borrow a pair of clothes. I’m making some food, too.”

Klaus stared at the man, holding out his hand for him, eyebrows raised expectantly. 

“My name’s Robert,” the man said after several moments, offering a smile. 

Klaus took his hand and Robert smiled. He guided him to the bathroom, showed him how to work the shower or the bath, and brought in a pair of sweatpants and a shirt for him to wear, before leaving him to go cook whatever he had been.

Klaus ran the bath, letting the hot water soak into his body, helping him relax a bit. 

Ben, sitting on the floor at the opposite end of the bathroom, said, “he seems alright. He checked in on you while you were sleeping to make sure you weren’t dead.”

“Lovely,” muttered Klaus, sinking into the bath.   
Ben shrugged half-heartedly. “Better than the other people you’ve been with.”

Klaus pressed his lips together and eyed the door. He had a point. He had dated some nicer people here and there, but those relationships never lasted long, and the majority of his relationships relied on Klaus getting drugs or shelter from them, and them getting what they wanted from him- typically sex, and he was used to them simply taking it without much actual care for him; not baths and clothes and food and a bed alone. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad.

* * *

  
It took Klaus a couple of days to feel normal again; head muddy, stomach flipping. During this time Robert was nice with him; patient, kind. He let him use his clothes, and he cooked well, and he let Klaus sleep in the bed by himself, too. He smoked, which Klaus was eternally grateful for, and he let Klaus smoke with him, and so Ben was the only ghost he had to deal with, but Ben was always easier to deal with when he was somewhere safe like this. 

Robert stared at him in an odd way, he noticed. Idly watching him whenever they were doing something. Klaus didn’t mind it so much- had had way weirder things happen to him- but he still noticed it. Klaus expected at any time for Robert to just push the line, to join him in bed or for him to wake up to Robert coming in, but he never did. Robert simply talked to him like a friend, treated him like one, and it was unnerving at first. Klaus didn’t know how to work these kinds of things. He understood sex and hook-ups. This was something new to him, and he fumbled his way through it blindly until it melted from a peaceful coexistence to gentle touches that made him melt. 

With his head fuzzy with a soft high, stomach full from a hot, home-cooked dinner, Klaus was sat with Robert, not paying much attention to the television droning on in the background. It had been storming for the past week like Robert had said that first day, but he was safely indoors; warm and comfortable, in a pair of sweatpants and a jumper. Robert had one arm slung over the back of the couch, around Klaus, and he wasn’t sure he was paying much attention to the television either.

It started with a hand on his shoulder, and then Klaus was leaning against him and resting a hand on his leg, forcing himself to be slow and patient. There was a hand on his cheek, soft and gentle as if Klaus was something to be gentle with. He looked at Klaus as if he was pretty to look at, and it was all too much; it made his heart twist and flutter in his chest and he almost wished the man would just push him down or pull his hair- do something to hurt him, something Klaus would be used to and could work with, could pretend he could control. 

But he never did. He leaned in and kissed him oh so gentle and soft, and they- just kissed. Nothing more. He didn’t push for more; his hands didn’t wander all over him. 

Klaus never liked to hope for things; found it always too painful when he never got it in the end, especially if he only ever hoped for things to be alright. But he couldn’t help but let it blossom here, and Robert continued to be soft and loving with Klaus, as if he saw something no one else did on the streets, and Klaus just melted for him, coming apart at the frayed seams. 

Two weeks after waking up in his apartment, longer than the majority of any of his relationships, he fell into bed with Robert for the first time, and it- it was almost too much, the vulnerability of being naked with him and being told he was something beautiful; being touched and held in a way as if he ought to be taken care of. It almost hurt. It felt too good to be true.

Klaus laid with him afterwards, head resting on his chest, an arm secured around his back, and then a thumb came to swipe underneath his eye at a sudden wetness there. He closed his eyes, embarrassed.

“What’s wrong?” Asked Robert, voice concerned, and Klaus shook his head a little. 

“Nothing,” he croaked. “Nothing.”

“You sure? You know you can talk to me.”

“I know,” he mumbled, blinking his eyes open. “I’m just- happy. ‘s all.”

Robert continued to stroke his cheek and Klaus leaned into the touch. Robert hugged him tighter, running his hand back through his hair. 

“Good,” he said, fingers curling the strands of hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m glad."

Klaus hummed his acknowledgement. His hand returned to his cheek, urging his head to move a certain way so that Robert could duck his head down and kiss him. 

It was nice. It was incredibly nice, and maybe Klaus could let himself believe it now. 

Robert’s hand ran through his hair, down to cup his neck, and he could feel him smile widely against his lips, arm around him tightening. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear any thoughts or feedback, if you have any:) thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: non-consensual touching, non-consensual kissing, non-graphic rape, implied drugged sex.


End file.
